Outfoxed
by lunarmage
Summary: The untold story of District 5's unnamed female tribute in the 74th Hunger Games, Sharyn Rosenbaum, AKA: Foxface.
1. The Reaping

A woman's hand reaches into the crystal sphere, groping around inside, reaching for something. Time seems to slow, until finally, the hand pulls out. The wind makes the little piece of paper seem to flutter, like a white butterfly feebly trying to escape.

"Sharyn Rosenbaum!"

That is my name. It takes a while for the realization to sink in. I am the female tribute for District 5, and chances are I'm going to die.

I walk up to the dais, numbly. My feet carry me against my will. This is how criminals must feel as they walk to the gallows. Scared, and utterly hopeless.

The male tribute is selected, but I'm not paying attention. I'm trying to control the emotions welling up, despair, fear, and even a bit of anger. Why me? I've only registered for a few tesserae. I fight to restrain the tears forming in my eyes, take a few deep breaths. The events of the next few hours are a blur to me, I'm herded into the Justice Building, where I get to say goodbye to my family, and if the odds are not in my favor, it will be the last time I ever see them.

My mother and father are both trying to be strong, for my sake, but they're obviously devastated. My mother holds me close to her, while my older brother, Dann, tries to give me advice and encouragement.

I don't know where the two of us got our cunning from, our parents aren't like that, but he and I think alike, in an almost scary way. "You're not going to be the strongest or the fastest tribute out there." He tells me, bluntly, not glossing over reality. I appreciate it. He and I both know how serious the situation is, and neither of us is going to deny it. "But you're smart, and tricky. Not just book smarts, you've got good instincts. You can outlast all of them, if you're careful."

He means everything he's saying, and he's right.

When the Peacekeepers herd them out of the room, I don't feel so bad. If I'm lucky, and smart, this may not be the last time I see them.

Author's Note: Though I should be focusing on my Haunting of Alaizabel Cray fic, "This Monster We've Created" (new chapter coming soon), I'm posting this Hunger Games fic I've been working on for some time now. I couldn't think of a better title, but since this story is all about "Foxface," it seemed appropriate.

"Foxface" (Sharyn) competes in the Games in the first book of the series, but Katniss, as well as the readers, never learns her name. After reading the book, I couldn't help but wonder about what she was like, how she interacted with her mentors and fellow tributes, how she thought, and how she lived in District 5. The whole book left a strong impression on me, and Foxface's character in particular.

Because District 5's industry is never specified in canon, I picked chemical and medicine manufacture, as the tributes from this district seem to be more brains than brawn.


	2. To the Capitol

Later, I gaze out the train window, watching District 5 receding behind me. I can just see the belching smokestacks of the chemical factories. I always wanted to leave the district, but not like this, like livestock doomed to the slaughterhouse.

When I can't see my home anymore, I go to the dining car. I might as well begin putting on muscle now, and I might as well enjoy the good eating while I can.

In the dining car, I come face to face with the boy from my district. I've seen him at school and I know his name, Neil Bronsted. He looks like most of the other District 5 kids, myself included, with sharp features, a thin face, reddish hair and hazel eyes, pale from working too long in the factories. But I didn't know him very well back home, and I don't want to get to know him now, especially when we will soon be enemies. I remember that he was relatively quiet in class, but nothing else distinguishes him. I don't believe he'll be much of a competitor, but I decide to reserve judgment until I see him training.

"Hi." He says, his voice devoid of any kind of emotion.

"Hello," I respond, cordially but coolly.

Our mentor, Caroline Hurst, enters, accompanied by our district escort, Titania Spore. Titania is a familiar face, as she's been the escort for district five for almost ten years now, with her crazy purple hair (worn in a different gravity-defying style every year) as well as heavily tattooed and surgically-altered features. Next to Caroline, she looks like some kind of alien creature. I can't begin to fathom the Capitol people, their frivolous, outlandish tastes and lifestyles, how oblivious they are to what the districts are really like.

Titania greets us with a much too peppy "I'm so glad to be going back to the Capitol." I don't agree with her. Since I was young, she has read out the death sentences every year in the square. Though I know it's irrational to think it, I can't help but feel that she is partially responsible for my current position.

Caroline nods politely at us, uttering a quiet "Hello." Many victors like to flaunt their wealth by wearing fancy clothing or even "enhancing" their appearance in the Capitol way, but Caroline looks like any other normal citizen of District 5, with short reddish hair, a thin nose, and dark green-brown eyes. She's in her mid-thirties, but I can spot a bit of grey in her hair.

Neil and I return the greeting, and they both sit. Titania frowns as she looks us over, as if she's already decided that we're not competitors, while Caroline's face is blank. I'm sure Titania would much rather be the escort for a district with better chances.

So far, I have much more respect for Caroline.

"Don't we have two mentors?" I ask. Our district has three male victors and two female victors, of which Caroline is one. Therefore we should have two mentors, unless all of the men refused to mentor us and left Caroline to do it alone.

"Xavier is resting in his room."

I imagine that Xavier Denham is sleeping off a hangover, he's notorious as an alcohol addict and a very angry, raving drunkard. After surviving an ordeal like the games, I wouldn't blame him for wanting to drown his sorrows in drink, to escape the lingering memories. I recall that during the games he won, he was forced to leave the girl from his district, his own ally and friend, to her death. A pack of bear-like muttations attacked them, mauling and killing the girl. Xavier barely escaped and was crowned the victor.

We watch recaps of the other reapings with Caroline and Titania. As usual, the tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 4 are volunteers, often referred to in the districts as "Career tributes" or "Careers." Though it's technically against the rules, career tributes train their entire lives to compete in the Games. Predictably, those three districts produce more victors. The district 3 tributes are typical of that district, dark haired and thin, with glasses and sallow skin, nothing spectacular, but district 3 has produced winners. I see myself walking, seemingly calm, up to the dais, and watch as Neil's mother and sisters cling tightly to him, as if they can protect him. He removes himself from their arms without looking back at their crying faces. I glance at Neil now, but he shows no reaction. Kids in district five are generally reserved, maintaining a calm, unaffected façade is second nature, it's a part of our upbringing.

The boy from District 10 limps as he ascends to the stage, and I feel a twinge of sympathy. The Games are pitiless and indiscriminate. No one is spared, they take any child, young or old, wealthy or desperately poor, healthy or crippled.

The girl from District 11 is very young, and tiny, and I can't help but feel for her as I did for the crippled boy from District 10. Her male counterpart, on the other hand is huge, muscular and intimidating.

For a moment, I think that the tribute from District 12 will be a small young girl like the one from District 11, but another, older girl rushes up to take her place almost immediately. I almost wish that my brother could have taken my place like that. The boy from District 12 is called, and the recap ends with the Capitol anthem blaring.

Caroline switches the screen off and turns to Neil and I. "The competition is pretty fierce this year, as you two undoubtedly saw. But if you're clever enough, you'll have a chance of winning, even if the odds don't seem to be in your favor."

If Titania realizes that Caroline is mocking the Capitol saying, she doesn't say anything.

Caroline continues. "For now, rest up. Tomorrow we'll arrive in the Capitol, where you'll make your grand debut to its citizens. After that, training begins. I'll see you tomorrow morning, at eight in the dining hall. Attendance is mandatory. Good night."

She leaves the car, and since neither Neil nor I want to be alone with Titania, we quickly bid her good night and follow Caroline out.

Neil goes off to his quarters without another word to me, a tacit indication that he does not want to befriend me or form an alliance of any kind. I don't mind at all.

I walk, alone, to my own quarters. The room is more luxurious than anything I have ever seen. I have my own bed and bathroom, and I can order any service or food I could possibly want. Everything except freedom.

I take a long, warm bath, which is a new experience for me, as warm water is hard to come by in District 5. When I'm done, I find several sets of pajamas in the set of drawers next to the bed, all made of soft, delicate fabrics I could never afford. I choose a light, silken pair and go to bed. The mattress is almost too comfortable, but despite my worries and fears, my exhaustion wins out and I quickly fall asleep.

Author's Note: From now on, updates will be coming a bit slower. I'm back in school, I have a hectic schedule, and I don't have as much time to write, though I try to make some time.

I've just started Mockinjay, luckily I reserved a copy way back in June…..I've been trying to avoid any spoilers, and so far I've been relatively successful. For the record, I'm Team Gale, even though Peeta is the better guy. Gale and Katniss have been through so much together, they've both lived hard lives and had to grow up quickly. But that's just my opinion, it's up to Katniss in the end.


	3. Regrets

When I wake up the next morning, I feel a brief, sharp stab of panic. For a moment, I can't remember where I am or how I got here. All I can think is _this is not my bed, this is not my room_ until the rational part of my brain reasserts itself. This is not my room, it is a car on a train bound for the Capitol. Though the very real possibility that I might die looms large, I can't help but feel a bit excited to see the city I have only seen on television, shiny, bustling, its people seemingly content.

I rise from the bed, dress and head to the dining car. I find Caroline and Xavier, who is, predictably, suffering from a hangover, waiting there. Titania and Neil haven't arrived yet.

Xavier Denham is in his mid-forties, by my estimate, with graying auburn hair and a mustache. His pointed chin is covered with stubble, and he is not as pale as most from the district. He has a thin face with deep-set dark brown eyes and a rather aquiline nose. Overall, he seems unremarkable, of average height and build, but there's a reason he won the Games. In the arena he was brilliantly resourceful. He was notorious for setting booby traps to take out his opponents. I hope he'll teach me his secret.

Caroline nods and says, "Hello" while Xavier doesn't acknowledge my presence. The three of us sit in silence until Titania and Neil arrive.

Caroline addresses Neil and I. "As you both know, this afternoon we'll be arriving in the Capitol. You'll make a brief appearance before your audience, and then training will commence. When we arrive, you'll be handed over to your stylists."

I resist the urge to groan. Capitol stylists are notorious for imposing their own ridiculous tastes on the tributes. Usually, the outfits are gaudy, colorful and incredibly skimpy. District 5's stylists are among the worst. The tributes' outfits are supposed to reflect the product of their district. Since District 5 is chemical and medicine production, our tributes have been dressed in a variety of hideous "scientist" costumes over the years. This year will be no different, I expect.

"It's best not to resist the stylists. Just get it over with." Caroline smiled wanly, as if she had read my thoughts. "Most of the time, they'll ignore you."

Xavier chuckled a bit.

"Good to see you're with us." Caroline remarked dryly. "Anything to add, Xavier?"

"Smile pretty for the cameras." He said with a note of sarcasm. "And try not to look too impressed. It may be your first time in the Capitol, but stay aloof. They'll think you're poor country bumpkins with no class either way, but try not to look like it."

Caroline nodded. "Good advice. Try to make an impression on potential sponsors, even if the stylists don't help you very well…." Titania seems unperturbed by Caroline's thinly veiled insult to the Capitol aesthetic. We will arrive in the afternoon, so both of you have several hours to yourselves."

Basically, she dismisses us, leaving me with nothing to do. I would prefer to do something to keep myself occupied, to keep my mind off of what inevitably awaits me in the Capitol, but there is nothing to do but wander the train, watch TV, or stuff my face. I already know the layout of the train, I've already eaten, and there is nothing on TV but Capitol propaganda, coverage of the current Games, and reruns of old Games, which doesn't help my mental state. Sleep would be impossible, so instead I just stroll aimlessly down the corridors of the train, encountering only attendants who are probably much to busy to talk to me.

As I wander the corridors, it strikes me. What I really need is someone to talk to, even if it's just petty small talk. But there is no one to go to. I wouldn't want to talk with Titania, Xavier or Neil, especially not Neil. But I feel as if I could talk with Caroline, even open up to her a bit about my feelings, so I seek her out in her room.

I knock quietly, hoping she's not resting or otherwise occupied. From within the room, I hear her voice. "Come in."

I open the door to find her sitting at her desk, looking through some papers. She doesn't look up as she says "close it behind you."

As soon as the door is closed, she says. "You can't bear to wait alone, can you? I understand. I always tried to keep myself occupied doing something productive in the days leading up to the Games."

I feel relieved that I didn't have to tell her any of my thoughts, that she automatically understood me and what was troubling me. "I hate to say it," I begin "but…I'm afraid. I don't want to die….And I don't want to kill."

She nods grimly. "I felt the same way." She takes a deep breath. "I felt like the Capitol was trying to steal my life, when it had barely begun, I was afraid, and above all, angry. But you can't let it show. There is a way for you to win this without playing the Games the way the Capitol wants you to."

"How?" I ask, glimpsing a faint hope.

The corner of her mouth lifts in a half-smile. I know about your…talents." She says quietly. "You have quite a knack for breaking, entering and stealing."

I freeze up, dumbfounded. I don't know how she knows about that. Living off factory wages is nearly impossible, so I've learned over the years that it's incredibly simple to break into well-to-do houses while the families are out, steal a bit of food (though not enough for anyone to notice), and leave quickly.

She chuckles softly. "I think you could apply the same strategy in the arena. Stay unseen, take only enough to survive, but not enough to be noticed. You don't have to play the Games like the Careers to win. How do you think Xavier and I won?"

She's right, with resourcefulness and a bit of luck, I have a chance. "Have you talked to Neil about strategy?" I ask, almost whispering.

She hesitates, then shakes her head sadly. "Yes, but….I don't think that he….He lacks your ingenuity. I've talked with him, and I regret to say it, but he sees no way to win but playing the way everyone else does. To be honest, I don't believe he'll last very long. He doesn't have the experience or skill to beat any of the Careers at their own game, and he doesn't have the imagination to devise an alternative strategy." She puts her head in her hands. "I give him three days, maximum."

"You must hate losing tributes." I say, not as a question.

"Yes. I sometimes feel like _I_ killed them, that somehow I didn't do enough to help them survive." She takes a long, halting breath, shaking her head. Up until now, she has appeared strong, but now she seems uncertain, plagued by doubts and regrets. "But I shouldn't burden you with…all or this…. I think this year will be different."

She raises her head and smiles at me, a warm, hopeful smile.

I bid her goodbye, glad to have spoken with her, hoping that I won't be the next dead child to haunt her dreams and waking hours.


	4. A Lesson in Capitol Aesthetics

Chapter 4: A Lesson in Capitol Aesthetics

I dreaded the reaping, and the Games themselves, but now I realize that I should have dreaded my encounter with the stylists and their assistants. Like almost everything the Capitol produces, they are unnatural. They put muttations to shame, with hair and skin dyed in fluorescent, often conflicting, colors. Their skin is covered with tattoos, and various parts of their bodies are "enhanced" in some way or another.

The woman working on me right now hasn't told me her name, but she has bright yellow hair and skin dyed a pale shade of aqua. Red tattoos loop around her eyes, and down her neck and arms. Her lips are puffy, I almost want to ask her if it was surgery or injections, but on further thought I don't want to know.

A man, I believe his name is Marcus, bosses aqua woman around as she treats my skin with all sorts of unpleasant, oozy, sticky or smelly products. Marcus has spiky, bright scarlet hair and wears red contacts, as if he wants to look like a sort of fire demon. His outfit is flamboyant, replete with lace and frills.

After aqua woman is done attending to my skin, Marcus orders her to do my nails while he works on my hair. For a moment, I fear that he will do my hair like his, but I remember Caroline and Xavier's instructions, swallowing my complaint. Instead, I politely ask "So what are our outfits going to be like?"

Though he is behind me, I see his arrogant, disdainful look reflected in the mirror. He must think I'm questioning his creative "genius."

"Just keep quiet and let us work."

Just as well. Capitol people have annoying accents.

For what seems like an eternity, the stylists work on "improving" my appearance. I blank out as they attend to me, my mind wandering elsewhere, back to home, and ahead, to the training center and the arena.

Finally, they release me and allow me to look in the mirror. At home, I rarely have access to a mirror, sometimes the wash basin has to do. However, I wish I didn't have a mirror right now, I'd rather not know exactly how ridiculous I look. But there I am reflected, my reddish hair piled on top of my head, bringing unnecessary attention to my thin, poorly fed face. Worst of all is my outfit. It's a bad replica of a lab coat, open to reveal a skintight black shirt with a plunging neckline which bares my thin chest and nonexistent cleavage. The skirt is very short and tight, and my makeup is frightful, it looks like someone vomited glitter on me.

Marcus stands back, admiring his work. When he turns his back to shout more orders at his assistants, I roll my eyes.

Neil walks in, and I'm somewhat satisfied to see that he looks much the same, that is, hideous. At least I'm not the only one. I'm not sure exactly what they put in his hair, but it looks as if he's been electrified.

Caroline and Xavier look us over, Caroline frowning a bit, obviously not impressed, while Xavier struggles to conceal his far-too-amused grin. Caroline sighs, as if she'd love to give the stylists hell for us, but leads us away to stand by our chariot.

…

Author's Note: Not much to say this time around. Sorry that updates have been slow. I barely managed to pull off A's in my classes last semester, and now I'm in the middle of Robotics season. On top of that, I also have scholarship applications to fill out. Fun, fun, fun.

On a more positive note, I've managed to finish an outline for a novel. I won't say much about it now, but it's a fantasy/sci-fi story. For now, I'm letting the outline rest as it is, because I'm kind of sick of it. In a week or two I'll start writing for real. My goal is at least a page a day, I might as well aim high.


End file.
